


Swing Night

by greekowl87



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s06e03 Triangle, F/M, Fluff, Jazz - Freeform, MSR, Post-Episode: s06e03 Triangle, Swing, dance, msr fluff, post ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 09:56:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10828911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekowl87/pseuds/greekowl87
Summary: My own take post ep of ‘Triangle’. MSR Fluff.





	Swing Night

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been wanting to write this for awhile. Hope it turned out okay. No beta.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own none. Merely borrowing.

She should have said no to begin with. It would have been so simple to just say no to begin with. No. No, Mulder, I am busy this Friday. No, Mulder, I have plans. No, Mulder, I have things to do.

But instead, she found herself saying, Sure, Mulder.

He caught her right as they were leaving Friday afternoon from their basement office. The perfect timing. She was off guard, her only thoughts were about having a weekend just to herself, no out of town cases, no chasing shadowy figures, just me time. He had leaned against the door frame, blocking her path with his height.

“Scully, got plans tonight?” he had asked.

Innocent enough.

“Actually, I do,” she replied, looking up from her briefcase. “Just me and the handsome Robert De Niro and the Godfather trilogy.”

“Hm. So, you want to hang out tonight?”

Hang out.

She looked up and searched his bright eyes and took note how his lips pursed slightly in thought and silent hoping. It was only last week that she had found him adrift in the Atlantic with the Lone Gunmen. It was only last week he was doped out of his mind with drugs when he confessed the three dreaded words. I love you. And her, being her, dismissed it with a plain ‘Oh, brother’ and simply walked away. But something pulled at her. She felt bad how she had reacted. Of course, she would have never admitted to anyone but herself. They had skirted the issue all week. So, she nodded slightly, partly out of respect for him and pity for herself. His face broke out into a grin.

“Great. I’ll pick you up at eight, okay? Dress like you’re going out.”

“Going out? Wait, Mulder!”

But he was already gone. She looked at her watch and noted it was a quarter till five. If he was going to be by to get her at eight pm, that left her a little over three hours to get ready. Shit. Maybe two depending on traffic back to her apartment in Georgetown. Sighing, she picked up her briefcase and purse, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

… .

It was 7:30 pm, well, technically 7:33. Mulder had told her eight and he did not intend to pressure her even more. He had rushed home and found one of his black suits, white Oxford shirts, and a simple yet stylish black tie. He wanted to look his best after all. But, likely by dressing this, he would make Scully feel pressured, which he didn’t want, but in reality, he wanted her to see why tonight was supposed to be special.

The few months still weighed heavily on his mind. He winced in memory recalling how close he came to losing her, twice, to cancer given to her by the men who had abducted her and some rogue alien virus that caused him to go to the ends of the world for her. If he didn’t know what screamed 'I love you’ then tonight should have been a joke. But he did love her, and he was fairly certain, she did too. Even if Scully would not admit it. She was just a very private person like that. And he didn’t want to put the d-word in any sentence either. Date. Was this date?

His thoughts continued to churn when he looked at his watch again. It was eight o'clock. Showtime.

As he entered her apartment, he silently began to berate himself. He should have brought her flowers. Or a bottle of wine. Or something. Something romantic. But that would make it an official 'date’ which neither one of them, he was certain, could handle the label. So as he approached her door, he raised his knuckles to knock, her door immediately opened and he felt his voice caught in his chest.

“God, Scully,” he blabbed uselessly. “You…you…”

“What?” she asked, suddenly becoming self-conscious. “Is it too much?”

“You look amazing.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, causing her to blush. She was dressed in a knee-length black evening gown and gorgeous tightly strapped high heels, somehow looking drop dead gorgeous and predicting the need to move and be practical for the night, without even being told it. Her hair was pinned back with a few bobby pins, making her seem more youthful than she really was. Of course, her gold cross, but she had adorned her ears with simple gold and diamond studs. But the way she had done her makeup, smokey and seductive, the first thing you would notice was her ethereal blue eyes.

“Beautiful?” she giggled slightly. “You clean up pretty nice yourself, Mulder. Care to tell me where we are going?”

He offered his arm to her. After a moment’s hesitation, watching her dart out between her lips in thought, she took the offered arm. “Scully, how do you feel about dancing?” he asked teasingly as he led her outside to his waiting car.

… .

Scully sipped her glass of wine slowly, watching Mulder come back with martinis instead, carefully navigating the crowds of other couples and people who looked like they were dressed in a time machine flashback from the 1940s. She pushed the glass of wine aside and took the offered martini instead. Mulder slid across from her and grinned. He turned in the chair and looked out at the dance floor. There was band slowly tuning their instruments and a band conductor at the old outdated mic. “We’ll be beginning in five minutes, folks!”

A short round of applause erupted as the band continued to get ready. “I can’t dance, Mulder,” she deadpanned. She sipped the martini and gazed over the rim of the glass. “I’m not dancing.”

The idea came from his time on the Queen Anne. Seeing the Scully doppelganger dressed in 1940s dresses, looking hotter than ever, and still be a bad ass. At some point, he conceived it would be fun to take her dancing. It seemed innocent enough for friends and had the potential for more. He tilted his head and shrugged. “Well, neither can I.”

“Then why bring us here to this jazz club?”

It screamed date night to her. What did he have planned?

“I thought it would be fun.”

“Did you leave your head on the Queen Anne, Mulder?”

He narrowed his eyes mockingly. “Hahaha.” He downed the martini in one gulp. Somehow the vodka was making him feel braver than normal. He straightened his tie, got up, and held out his hand. “Come on, Scully.”

“You’re terrible, you know that?”

“But you love me all for it.”

She chuckled and against her better judgment, took his hand. “For the record, you mention this to anyone, that I danced, I will kill you.”

“Of course not, Scully.”

… .

Scully lost track of time. She could not remember the last time she had that much fun. The music that they played varied from upbeat swing to slow jazz. The last song of the evening was, ironically, 'Beyond the Sea.’ Scully found herself smiling as she let Mulder fold his arms around her as she snaked her arms around his neck. Allowing some of her armor to fall, she rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes and listening to his heart beat and the 'Beyond the Sea’ play.

“You know, this was my parents’ song,” she whispered to him.

“Was it,” he responded softly, gently tightening his arms around her. He could not move or breathe. He could not believe this was happening. Her she was, in his arms, completely relaxed and happy? Yeah. She was happy. “So, I guess this is one of your favorites?”

She smiled to herself. This was her favorite song for a new reason now. She fancied it had become her and Mulder’s song as well. “Well, it has a new, special meaning now,” she whispered, kissing his chest. She arched her head. “About what happened, Mulder. I didn’t want to come off as dismissive. The whole 'Oh, brother’ thing. The past six years. The hallway…”

“Damn bees.”

“Damn bees,” she laughed. She buried her face in his chest and felt him nuzzling her hair. “Tonight, Mulder…I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Where does that leave us?” he asked with bated breathe. He had stopped dancing. “Scully?”

“Keep dancing, Mulder. I love this part,” she whispered, feeling his start to lead again. Where did it lead them? A question mark with direction, she decided. Things did not happen overnight for them. It took time. She lifted her head again, this time, finding his lips. She kissed him deeply and with so much promise. “With a future and direction. Now be quiet, I love this song.” It’s our song now, she added mentally.

He smiled and spun her dramatically in his arms. “I’ll take that for a start.”


End file.
